


Fine Line

by Chioces



Series: One Hundred Prompts [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Creeper Derek, Dubious Consent, Ghosts, M/M, Masturbation, Oblivious Derek, Sneaky Stiles Stilinski, Supernatural Elements, but only slightly - Freeform, escalation of Derek's creepiness, sightly manipulative Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-23
Updated: 2014-09-23
Packaged: 2018-02-18 12:56:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2349203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chioces/pseuds/Chioces
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek may have figured out that Stiles is his mate, but that doesn't mean he needs to do anything about it. They have only just reached something that can be called friendship. So Derek will control himself. Because Derek is a master of self control. Right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fine Line

 

Derek runs his fingers over Stiles’ buzz cut. It’s soft and thick beneath them and makes Derek want to just keep running his palm over it, again and again. But there’s a fine line.

“What are you-?” squawks Stiles, flailing away from Derek’s touch. 

Derek turns his head, so that Stiles doesn’t catch his disappointment. Derek knows that they are nowhere near actual declarations of love, but he thinks they can call each other friends now. And friends touch friends. He knows this. Stiles and Scott are touching all the time.

“There was dust in your hair,” says Derek, moving an old curtain from the doorway before walking into the empty kitchen. Why is it that old houses have to be so creepy? 

“Oh,” Stiles says, moving to follow Derek, “well, thanks!”

Derek grunts because- what does one say to that?

There is still no sign of the ghost that is apparently haunting the little green house on the outskirts of Beacon Hills. And no _, not because it’s day_ , _Stiles,_ there is no ghost because ghosts do not exist.

Finding nothing useful, whatsever, in the kitchen Derek opens the back door. The steps leading down to the ground have rotted away, so Derek jumps, barely refraining from doing it in the form of a backflip, his wolf scratching at him in annoyance, wanting them to show off their dexterity and power for their mate. But Derek knows their mate better and showing off will bring mockery, not reverence. So Derek does not do a backflip to impress Stiles. Because there is a fine line.

“Here, let me help you,” says Derek, offering his hand to help Stiles get down to the backyard. Stiles takes it and awkwardly jumps,  barely avoiding the remainder of the rotten stairway. 

“Come on,” says Derek, tugging on Stiles’ hand (the one that he has yet to release) and moving in the direction of the garden shed. Then Derek lets Stiles hand fall because as much as the wolf is _yes, caught, ours, keep, hold, bond_ Derek is aware that there is a fine line.

In the shed Stiles eventually finds himself on the floor, gardening tools in a pile atop him. Of course. How could Stiles stay out of trouble for ten whole minutes?

“Of course, how can you stay out of trouble for ten whole minutes?” asks Derek, as he pulls Stiles to his feet and proceeds to pat him down in search of injury. Stiles has done this a million times. Has done this to Derek too, in fact, this is ok, this is what worried friends do. Meanwhile, the wolf going _yes, caught, ours, sent, mate, mark, bond, keep._ But once Derek has made sure that Stiles is indeed uninjured he steps back and places his hands firmly in his pockets (they’re safer there) because Derek knows that there is a fine line. 

A week later they still haven’t found their ghost because _there is no such thing as ghosts, Stiles,_ but Stiles does not agree, so they keep searching.

*

They are on Derek’s couch reading photocopies of the stupid bestiary when Stiles falls asleep. It starts off slowly, droopy eyelids and slower breathing and then suddenly Stiles is out like a light. Body falling sideways and onto Derek, so that his shoulder is on Derek’s arm and his head is on Derek’s shoulder. Derek may want to pull Stiles closer, cover them both with a blanket and sleep too. But he doesn’t do this, because Derek understands that there is a fine line.

If Derek sits absolutely still for the hour and seven minutes that Stiles is asleep, well, no one is the wiser. 

* 

Two days later Stiles makes it all the way to Derek’s bed before passing out. Derek may or may not sit in the shadows watching his mate sleep quietly. In. His. Den! Derek’s wolf is an annoying brat the whole time _want, take, ours, here, home, mate,_ but Derek can control himself and does not touch Stiles in any way. Because Derek is clear on the fact that there is a fine line. 

He just sits. And stares. For the entire night.

*

If Derek has to jerk himself off, long and hard every single time he gets near his bed for the next few days… well, it’s not Derek’s fault the sheets are soaked through with Stiles and Derek’s scents, mixed together, like they had been sharing his bed for their whole lives. 

It’s just fantasy, Derek is allowed a fantasy every now and again. 

Until the fantasy accidently becomes a reality and Derek realizes that he is so. So. Fucked. 

Derek is on his way to see Stiles about the stupid ghost that _does not exist_ when he hears it. A soft grown coming from Stiles’ slightly opened window. 

Derek doesn’t hesitate, breaks into a run and jumps onto the Stilinski roof in one smooth move. 

The softly gasped “ _Derek,”_ only confirms his worries. Stiles is hurt. 

But then Derek is looking into the window. Stiles is many things _ours, mate, yes, sweet, wanton, spread open and waiting,_ but definitely not hurt.

Stiles is stretched open on his own fingers, moving his hips in a slow stuttering rhythm, fucking himself onto them. His eyes are closed and his bottom lip is red and glistening where it’s caught between his teeth.

Derek doesn’t know what to do. The only good thing about the situation is that it’s the middle of the night and the darkness is hiding him from view. Mostly. He hopes. He is achingly hard and this is so much worse than with the sheets, because here Stiles is, moaning Derek’s name with a mixture of _please_ and _yes_ and _more_ and _so good._

Derek sinks to his knees and pulls out his cock, right there on the roof. He begins to wank in rhythm with Stiles, imagining that it’s his dick pushing into the tight little hole, not Stiles’ fingers, that he is hovering over Stiles’ body, holding both his wrists up over his head as he drives into the boy over and over and over again, until Stiles is wild with it, moaning and withering on the bed, back onto his cock, like he can’t get enough of it. All the while his wolf is _want, take, need, catch, mate, mark, take, ours, wants, begs, yes, take._  

But Derek does not push the window further open, he doesn’t pull Stiles’ fingers out of him and replace him with his leaking, aching cock. Because there is a fine line. And Derek knows this. 

His knot, when it comes, comes with such ferocity that it doesn’t dissipate for another hour. Derek sits on the roof for the hour it takes for his knot to go down and listens to Stiles breathing in his stated sleep.

This is getting harder every day. Derek doesn’t know how much longer he’ll be able to keep himself away. Maybe it’s time to start thinking about leaving Beacon Hills. 

* 

 _So maybe there is a ghost,_ thinks Derek as he watches Scott float gently over the house. It’s a bit dizzying and a whole lot creepy. If werewolves were meant to fly, they’d have wings. 

“Derek, stop staring at Scott and help me dig up the fucking body!”

Their shovels finally hit the soft wood of a coffin, and Derek jumps into the hole to wretch the thing open. As Stiles begins pouring a mixture of salt and gasoline over the bones, the ghost deposits Scott onto the rooftop and reappears right behind Stiles with a startling crackle of static electricity. Derek does not like ghosts.

It charges at Stiles just as the boy pulls out the matches. Then three things happen at once.

Stiles doesn’t manage to light the match in his hand, and swearing, stats to clumsily try to light the second one.

Derek jumps between Stiles and the ghost.

The ghost smashes headlong into Derek’s chest. And stays there.

Derek is cold. He is so cold. But then there is a burst of heat in the center of his chest. And he realizes that it’s not in his chest, but on his chest, and what it is, is Stiles’ hand pressing him gently into the ground. 

“Are you ok? Looks like Supernatural is good for more than just entertainment and hot dudes wanting to bone other hot dudes. Looks like the old salt and burn was a success! Yay u-“ 

But Derek never learns what the rest of the sentence is going to be because he is tugging Stiles close and kissing him. He’s leaving town anyway. May as well destroy the only friendship he has in this world. But at least he’ll have this, this one kiss to tide him over for all the long lonely nights that are yet to come. So Derek puts his everything into the kiss, all his frustration and desire and, so much love. And Stiles kisses back for a while and Derek thinks _if I could have this, I would want for nothing for the rest my life._ But as all things, the kiss ends, and Stiles is pulling back. His eyes are wide and pupils blown and his lips are raw and red and Derek can’t bear to take his eyes away. Even though he knows what’s coming. Because Derek crossed a line. 

“Fucking,” and Derek flinches back, as back as one can flinch while laying on the ground, “Finally!” snaps Stiles, “didn’t know what else I was gonna have to do to get your head out of your arse!” and unceremoniously dives in for another kiss. 

Derek kisses back, pulling Stiles on top of himself and maybe Derek doesn’t need to move out of Beacon Hills after all.

This is how Scott, who has finally managed to scramble off the roof, finds them. 

“Ugh. Dudes! Gross! Finally, but gross!” 

Stiles pulls back, giggles, he eyes shining and happy and dives right back in, as Scott stomps away. 

And you know what? Screw fine lines.

“Marry me,” says Derek the next time Stiles comes up for air. 

Stiles falls back laughing.

“How about we go on a real date first?”

**Author's Note:**

> I now have Tumblr! yay!!! <http://chioces.tumblr.com/>


End file.
